


The Rumour Mill

by mage_989



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mage_989/pseuds/mage_989
Summary: Percival Graves is back on the job, but not everyone is happy about that.  Some begin to question his skill and character, believing that him getting captured by Grindelwald was a failing on his part.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the kink meme that requested Graves getting victim blamed for 'allowing' himself to be replaced by Grindelwald.

When Percival Graves was found it would have been easier to list how many parts of his body were not bruised and/or broken than the ones that were. The healers recommended he be on bed rest for at least six weeks to ensure a full recovery.

He had convinced Picquery into sneaking him paperwork within the first week and had escaped the hospital and was back at his desk by the third. It was a good thing too, because the backlog caused by the Grindelwald/Scamander fiasco was enormous. It turned out that raining an untested potion over an entire city had less than perfect results, and so people were being pulled from their regular departments to help put out the figurative and sometimes literal fires all over New York. It also seemed like the whole Wand Permit Office had gone on vacation while he was being impersonated, and if he ever discovered who had destroyed the lock on his office door he was going to have them fired.

***

Gnarlak sat smugly across the interrogation table from aurors Prescott and Clarkson.

“I got nothing to fear from you two.”

Prescott made an exaggerated motion to look over the file in front of him.

“Smuggling and distribution of bootleg alcohol, aiding and abetting known criminals, and the release of a class XXX creature on an untrained populous. That’s going to get you some serious time on the rock.”

“I’ll beat it even without your deal. It’s all over the underbelly of this city that your head guy’s gone soft. If you guys can get taken for a ride by Grindelwald for months you’re no threat to the rest of us.”

The aurors decided taking a break was a better option than slamming him through a wall and went out into the hallway, Clarkson offering a cigarette that Prescott declined.

“He does have a point,” Clarkson said, lighting up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean crimes in the city are up 30% and we all know it’s Graves’ fault. We’re supposed to be the force that intimidates people to stay on the straight and narrow. How the hell are we supposed to do that when our own boss is a patsy? Everyone always totted about how great he was, how skilled, how we should all work to be just like he is. But he goes up against Grindelwald and that high and mighty barbarian doesn’t end up a smear on the sidewalk? Please Graves isn’t half the man he thinks he is, if he ever was.” 

“Yeah, and you know maybe if he wasn’t such a bluenose one of us would have noticed he’d been replaced.” 

“Is there something you wish to discuss with me, gentlemen?”

Both men spun around to see Graves, with a steely glare leveled at both of them. 

“No, Sir.”

“Then get back to work.”

“Yes, Sir.”

***

Unfortunately gossip did as gossip is wont to do and it spread. So even as Graves continued to come in early and leave late the rumours only grew. Snowballing from him being weak getting captured to Picquery having him doing less field work not to ease him back to duty, but because she no longer trusted him. 

The latest ones were nipping at his heels as he left the morning meeting, wary eyes scanning him as he walked the hallways of MACUSA. That he was able to come back to work so quickly, because he wasn’t as badly injured as the healers had let on and so he clearly hadn’t tried hard enough to escape. Maybe he was even one of Grindelwald’s agents just lying in wait until it was time to return to his master’s side. 

Slamming his new office door wasn’t the most dignified thing in the world Graves knew that, but he certainly felt better for it.

He forced himself to focus on the tasks at hand and slowly the rumours were drowned under the steady thrum of paperwork. It was just as quickly broken though by a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened to reveal bright blonde locks and an even brighter smile, Queenie Goldstein.

“Mr. Graves, I was doing my usual coffee rounds and-” 

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Of course I know that, but I also stopped by this new bakery that is just the bee’s knees and I thought you might like to try some.”

She placed a small brown bag on his desk. Intrigued Graves opened it and pulled a pastry in the shape of an erumpent, and one shaped like an occamy. 

“They’re made with orange zest and lemon curd, best in New York.”

“Thank you, Miss Goldstein.”

The pastries were indeed delicious and filling and Graves used them as an excuse to work through lunch. He also stuffed the file for a no-maj named Jacob Kowalski and his bakery at the bottom of the non-urgent pile.


	2. Chapter 2

Grindelwald had escaped. 

The newspapers had a field day speculating about how it had happened and where he would strike next. Mail was flying back and forth at a frantic pace as he was now truly an international fugitive and no longer just Europe’s problem to worry about. And oh Picquery had to pay dearly for her line to Heinrich Eberstadt about letting Grindelwald slip through his fingers. Graves made a detour one morning to the Kowalski bakery and got her a niffler pastry to eat with that humble pie. 

For his part Graves found the whole thing almost pleasant in a way. As the department had a strong unified goal that meant people at last shut up about him and his being impersonated. Oh, they still looked at him with suspicion and outright glares at times, but it was at least more subtle than whispered rumours through the hallways. Also with them being more alert constant vigilance had clearly become standard practice and Graves wasn’t going to fault anyone for that. 

Especially as he himself had noticed someone else who was off: Clarkson. It wasn’t anything outlandish just little things that told him something wasn’t right. The way he didn’t have any coffee stains on his jacket. The fact that he took a front bench seat for the meeting when he normally sat in the back. Also Clarkson was a smoker and Graves banned smoking during his meetings, because he didn’t want people distracted while looking for lighters, or pipes, or coughing because someone else’s smoke bothered them. Yet Clarkson never became irritated like many others even as the longer hours kept him away from what Graves personally thought was a bad habit. And when Graves finally adjourned the meeting and everyone grabbed for their cigarettes, and quickly filled the room with a fine haze of smoke as they slowly left Clarkson didn’t join them. He fiddled with his lighter and twirled a cigarette in his fingers, but never once actually smoked it. They caught each other’s eye as he left and Graves had to suppress a shiver that threatened to run down his spine. 

He turned away from the door and looked back up at the map showing various attack points around the city. If Grindelwald or one of his fanatics was trying to infiltrate them again what was the motive? There had been no reports of another obscurial, Newt Scamander was confirmed to be back in Britain, and it certainly wasn’t about some kind of stealth attack. Grindelwald had started to leave a distinct calling card at the scene, a dark mark some had taken to calling it, and every witness had his name on their trembling lips. He wanted them to know he was the one behind everything. So surly he wouldn’t try to hide in the same place twice. But Graves also knew what of kind egomaniac he was. Would he really infiltrate MACUSA twice just to show he could do it?

Yes, yes he would.

Graves bolted out of the room and moved quickly after the younger man, managing to catch up to him in the lobby.

“Clarkson, wait a moment.”

Clarkson ignored him and moved faster down towards the entrance. Graves knew if he got beyond the anti-apparition wards he would never see him again.

“Stop!”

He didn’t and Graves went for his wand.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Clarkson went stiff as a board, toppling forward and skidding down the last few steps. 

“Graves, what are you doing?!”

“I told you he’d lost it!”

Graves glanced around in dismay as he saw that his fellow aurors had their wands raised not at Clarkson, but at him. In a split second he made a decision and their spells bounced off his shield spell as it went up, pushing the others back and leaving him and Clarkson alone.

He might not make it out of this alive, but his people would.

The murmurs of several confused onlookers were quickly drowned out by the sound of laughter. Graves’ jinx was easily broken and Clarkson made his way back up the stairs. Grindelwald then let the transfiguration fall away of his own accord. His hair was longer from his time in prison, but he was still instantly recognizable. There was a collective gasp and Graves took an involuntary step backwards.

“Well played, Director, and useful...for me.”

Then quite unexpectedly Grindelwald dropped his wand to his side and bowed. 

Graves remained still.

“Come now, Percival, the formalities must be respected.”

Graves gripped his wand tighter and jerked his head down ever so slightly.

“To the death I suppose?” he asked.

Grindelwald smirked and shook his head.

“Three rounds. I want to enjoy this.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve been hearing things, Percival, terrible, terrible, rumours about you.” 

“I’m not one to put stock in what others think of me.”

“Well then we have a problem because I do.”

He raised his wand then and swung it in an arc around his head. Blue lightning shot out from the tip and across the lobby. Graves took a wide stance and swung his own wand up to counter it with a bright yellow bolt of his own. Green sparks flew out as the two spells caught and both men held the chain.

“You see, Percival, I’m trying to establish a new world order, and I can’t do that when you are seen as a pathetic! Inept! Weakling!”

Each word was punctuated by another swung of his wand as Grindelwald worked the chain like a whip and launched it towards Graves. Graves blocked one strike to his left then his right, slamming the chain against the ground so hard it cracked the tiles and sent so many sparks into the air that it sizzled and crackled with energy. On the third strike he shifted to his left, making a small circle with his wand to gather the energy and then flicked it around to send it back and hit Grindelwald square in the chest.

The dark wizard fell to one knee as he was forced backwards and Graves couldn’t help the way his eyes lit up with the thrill of the fight.

Grindelwald barked out another laugh. “Yes, there it is! That fighting spirit! A true Wampus to the end, Percival, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” 

He stood up and the two wizards began circling each other, looking for the next opening. 

“Why is my reputation suddenly so valuable to you?” Graves asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Grindelwald sighed as if the answer should be obvious. “Because attacking you, oh illustrious Director, was my first illicit deed on American soil. It makes me look weak by comparison if everyone thinks there was no challenge in that. As if you were just some simpleton muggle I had to hit over the head with a club and stuff in a closet.”

The next few spells were small affairs, highly telegraphed and easily blocked. He was being toyed with and he knew it so Graves tried to take advantage of Grindelwald’s talkative mood.

“Clarkson has a wife and a daughter, where are they?”

“Off at her sister’s. The man was an open book and I was able to figure out his routine in a week! Seriously, Percival, I do believe you’re the only one in your department with a hobby.”

Out of the corner of his eye Graves spotted Tina move to begin looking for them and cast a smokescreen spell so Grindelwald wouldn’t see her leave. Unfortunately it had the side effect of leaving them both blinded by the dark cloud of smoke and using sound alone to track each other’s movements.

“Have you any idea how long it took me to nail down your routine? To observe all those minor details that would help me avoid detection?“ Grindelwald asked as he raised the broken tiles up off the floor. “To tease out that perfect moment to strike you down?” 

With one hand he shifted the smoke and turned on his heel, sending the projectiles flying behind him and straight towards Graves.

Graves wasn’t quick enough to stop them all and cried out in pain as the last piece caught his shoulder, sending him back against the shield and collapsing to the ground; his wand skidding away across the floor.

“Ah, you’ve even improved! Wonderful! You know I thought I might have truly hurt you on that fifth escape attempt when you started coughing up blood.”

Grindelwald’s gait was swift as he approached Graves and aimed his wand down at him.

“I make you the same offer I did then.”

Graves glared up at him in defiance.

“The answer is still no.”

“Very well.”

Grindelwald thrust his other arm out and wandlessly pulled Graves upright. 

“Then you will die like a man.”

Graves wasn’t down for the count quite yet though and with his opponent now at arm’s length he took a more direct approach and grabbed his arm with both hands. Yanking backwards and twisting his hip he grappled Grindelwald to the ground. Then he too took advantage of the now ruined floor, pushing it up further until he hit the piping underneath it. Grindelwald made to attack again, but Graves was ready as he clenched his hands and caused a small break in the pipes. Water shot out like that from a fire hose and sent Grindelwald flying back against the shield. It rippled as Graves fought to keep it up and direct his next attack. He gathered the water around Grindelwald and froze it as quick as he dared leaving the other wizard fully immobilized. Not willing to take any chances he shrunk his shield to surround him as well and the others immediately took over for him and Graves summoned back his wand.

“I think we’re putting that in the textbooks, Graves,” Picquery said, as she came over.

“Mr. Scamander may be an orthodox, but his methods proved useful last time and I thought it appropriate to improvise.”

He was breathing hard by then, sweating collecting on his forehead, and it wasn’t long before holding up the shield and dueling finally got the better of him and his knees buckled. Thankfully Queenie was also on hand by then and easily held him up.

“Sir, are you all right?”

“Never mind me we have an auror to find!” 

He started to move and stopped as he felt the water slosh over his shoes and glanced over to where it was currently spilling down the stairs.

“I apologize for the floor, Madam President.”

Picquery smiled and flicked her wand. The water receded and the tiles flew back into place in short order, leaving it looking brand new.

“Easily fixed,” she answered. “Now let’s find the real Clarkson.”

Find him they did in a steamer trunk in the man’s own closet. He was splayed out on the carpet and they’d barely got the ropes and gag off him before he was screaming at them.

“Doris! Helen! He said he’d hurt them!”

Graves knelt down next to him.

“Just breathe, Clarkson. They’re all right Goldstein has them at HQ waiting for you.” 

Graves took several deep breaths himself to encourage him and slowly Clarkson calmed down and his breaths became even and steady. Then he looked at Graves in confusion.

“Sir, why-after everything I’ve said…why would you do this for me?”

“Because whether you like me or not you’re still my man, Clarkson, and I will always work to protect my own.”

Prescott broke in then, kneeling down beside his partner.

“Ah, Sam, you missed it! Our boss and Grindelwald in a battle royal right there in the lobby! It was amazing you should have seen it!”

He got Clarkson up and out of the room, babbling on about the duel that now apparently involved a fifty foot fire snake.

Graves made to follow them only to stop short as a sharp pain shot through his side. Biting back a groan he leaned heavily against the doorframe.

Picquery came over and put her hand lightly on his shoulder.

“I believe nearly everyone in the department owes you an apology, Percival.”

Graves nodded, but he also knew that Prescott singing his praises to Clarkson and having them spread positive rumours instead was probably about as good as it was going to get. 

“If it’s all the same to you, Madam President, I believe I would rather take you up on your offer of vacation time.”

“Granted.”

She quickly disapparated them both and in an instant Graves found himself standing in front of a very familiar set of hospital doors.

“This isn’t what I had in mind.”

“I know, but if you at least let them keep you overnight for observation I’ll count it as sick leave for a week and you can have extra vacation time. I hope it’s somewhere warm and don’t send me any pictures of yourself in shorts.”

Graves actually smiled and laughed for the first time in a long time.

“Agreed, Seraphina, and thank you.”

The End


End file.
